Winter's Breeze
by IheartOakenshield193712
Summary: Anxiety is upon Mister Darcy as the birth of his and Elizabeth's second child grows nearer, and his worry has stirred up the dreadful memories of the Wickham trial. :: Post!Death Comes to Pemberley :: Romance :: Hurt/Comfort :: Angst


**Hello Pride and Prejudice readers!**

**This fic was inspired by Insomnium's ****new song Wail of the North. It's melodic death metal and if that's not your thing, I recommend only listening to the first minute because that's all instrumental and that part, oh geez, the first time I heard it, Elizabeth and Darcy from Death comes to Pemberly was the first thing I thought of!**

**This story takes place after Death Comes to Pemberley :) It can be seen as a stand alone or a sequel to my other story titled Forgive me?**

**Happy Reading!**

**-IheartOakenshield193712**

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_"I've killed him! My only friend and I killed him! Denny!"_

Darcy's upper lip twitched in anger at the all-too-vivid memory of hearing Wickham drunk and hysterical, draped over the dead body of Captain Denny. Remembering how practically dead-weight Wickham had been when he and the others hoisted him up. Remembering how the hole had been ripped open again in his tightly knit family.

The toe of his boot moved a rock away from the old Darcy headstone.

Against his will, his mind wandered…

He'd have done anything for his family, but his sights had been narrowed by truths he didn't wish to believe. And in the process, he had committed the greatest crime – destroying his dear Elizabeth's spirit. He had pushed her away when she only wished to help. He had caused her inexplicable pain-

He had forgotten they were a team. Instead, he had receded into himself, insisting she knew nothing of the situation because Wickham was his responsibility because he had grown up with him. But her sister had married him…

His heart clenched at the damaging memory of Elizabeth's terrified but thankful features when he realized his cousin was not the man he thought he was and that their marriage was not over. The relieved tears that had gathered in her eyes when he ascended the steps to her and told her of his terrible mistakes- that he was a fool and he should not have weakened his faith in the one woman who was his world-

Permanently seared into his memory.

She had forgiven him so easily, so quickly. _Too_ easily and _too_ quickly for he deserved her hatred for doing such things to her. He deserved to spend cold nights in the parlor where he would be banished to. He deserved silence at breakfast and tea and dinner. He deserved the worst treatment possible, but she never granted him such.

She took him back and he remembered the tightness of which they had held each other. Him wishing to never let himself lose his faith in her, and her desperately wishing to never live through such things.

The breeze of chilly air brought him to the present. He glanced in the direction of Pemberley, remembering his Elizabeth was still asleep. He wiped his hands on his coat, suddenly conscious they were moist with nervous sweat.

_"Can't promise it'll be a girl."_

The corners of his mouth curved upward slightly at the memory of her teasing smile when she told him. The girlish charm that she still had despite being married to his old sod for years. He had swung her around in his happiness.

Only, these days he held more apprehension than happiness. She had less than a month before her time… He loathed to remember how challenging Little Fitzwilliam's birth had been.

He cleared his throat and turned away from the grave, returning to the road that led back to Pemberley. He pulled his coat tight and up to his cheekbones before stuffing his mitten-ed hands into his pockets. The breeze was nippy, making the chilly, winter day a bit more intolerable. He made it out from under the canopy of trees and saw the sun had risen, and the sky was doused in beautiful shades of orange and purple. He smiled to himself – he'd have to send for more of those paints Elizabeth loved so. He knew she had been cooped up in the house for most hours of the day – only allowed out when the day was at its warmest. He hoped the paints would provide her some sort of company when he was locked away in his study.

He stopped short at a lane leading into the garden.

She stood there – wearing her best scarf and thickest coat – admiring the vines that the gardeners had left untamed since the beginning of autumn. She smiled to herself when she saw that they had only bothered with trimming just to protect the rose bushes from the pest. She didn't mind the messiness. It had been terribly freezing these past few weeks, and she even assured the gardeners they didn't have to continue their duties in this frigid weather. Now in the middle of winter, the vines had spread to the tops of the hedges. And she stood there admiring a flower that managed to bloom despite the cold.

A sign that good can come through even in the most troubling of times.

She had heard footsteps down the path and turned at the silence. She breathed out a girlish smile and held her hand out to him, "Darcy." Her smile turned soft when he obeyed. She noted that his smile ddi not reach his eyes-

Her suspicions of him starting to worry were true.

He took up her cool hand into his then gave a light tsk. He brought her hand up to his lips and breathed hot air onto her skin. "I've told you you must wear your mittens. I don't want you catching a cold. So near your-" His voice audibly caught and he couldn't finish his sentence. He cleared his throat and quickly shed his own mittens. "Take mine," he said, sliding her hands into his warm ones.

Her gaze was as loving as her smile. She moved her gloved hand to his cheek, her heart pulling just a bit when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch for a long moment, his hand resting over hers.

"Jane's arriving at the end of the week."

He looked up and his grip tightened ever so slightly on her hand. He studied her carefully, looking for any sign of discomfort in her tired face.

"She and Bingley will be staying for a month," she continued. She met his gaze and moved her thumb over his cheek. "Darcy."

A pained look flitted across his face. He knew that tone-

The tone that told him what he was dreading wouldn't happen. That his fears were unnecessary and that their little Fitzwilliam was proof. That she would be by his side until old age. He looked up.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of unquenched fear in his eyes and the worried pull to the corners of his mouth. Her features softened, "Oh, Darcy."

"Nothing-" his voice broke off. He tried again after a shaky exhale. "_Nothing_ is set in stone."

He was strong-minded, she knew that. Anything he set his mind on, any thoughts he had wouldn't change until the event passed.

Until she and their new baby were _safe_.

Words of comfort did not work on him, so she brought his hands to their unborn child for a long moment. His fingers splayed over the thick material, and he tried to draw comfort that as of this moment, Elizabeth and their child were fine.

But what was to say a month from now-

"Don't let your mind wander," her voice cut into his thoughts.

He managed to nod. "We- we must get through this."

She breathed out a half-smile. "And we will. One day at a time."

His blues met hers and he let out a shaky breath. "You never cease to amaze me, Elizabeth. With your confidence, your surety- I do not deserve you a thousand times over." He caught her hands and pressed a firm kiss to her knuckles. "I love you, my darling Elizabeth."

Her girlish smile returned and her love for him twinkled in her eyes. He relished in her laugh when he twirled her. "Let us return. Warm you two by the fire," he smiled softly, kissing her temple.

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**Thank you for reading! :)**

**I know it's a wee bit of a weird ending... but I couldn't figure where/how to end it. :)**

**But I hope it turned out alright and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


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